


Words I Might Have Ate

by anastasiapullingteeth



Series: Sweet Children II: Poprocks & Coke [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (but not really), Accidental Voyeurism, Aromantic Courfeyrac, Developing Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Life Partners, Polyamorous Character, Possessive Behavior, amatonormativity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: Courfeyrac and Jehan aren’t dating, but they are partners. That somehow seems to be a problem for Jehan’s new boyfriend.





	Words I Might Have Ate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lifeofthewickedwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofthewickedwitch/gifts).



> My friend Sam asked for this fic and, well, why not, right?

"I met someone", Jehan said shyly.

The words took Courfeyrac by surprise, but he did his best to control the emotions trying to show on his face and, instead, masqueraded them with joy. "You did? Oh, my God. That's awesome! Who is he?" he asked, genuinely curious. Jehan had never been involved with anyone that wasn't in their inner circle —and maybe Courfeyrac was getting ahead of himself here but—, that meant the guy was  _ special _ .

Jehan snorted and lowered his face, blushing slightly. "His name's Joaquín. He's, uh, he's a model-"

"Ohhhhh," Courfeyrac shrieked. "An underwear model?"

"... Among other things," the young man answered, hiding his face between his hands.

That'd been three months ago and now Jehan was officially dating the Spaniard model with tanned skin sitting across from Courfeyrac in Éponine's living room. They were at the woman's house to celebrate Gavroche's 12th birthday and Jehan had considered it to be the perfect time to introduce his boyfriend of one week to them. Courfeyrac was trying really hard not to stare but, if Feuilly's astonished face was something to go by, he wasn't the only one that thought Joaquín was Smoking Hot, capital letters and all: The guy had more muscles than what was necessary to be on display on a human body —not even Bahorel went there, and he was a big show-off—, unfairly long eyelashes, and pouty lips that had no right to look that good on a man of that size. Because Joaquín was  _ huge _ . Not much taller than Courfeyrac but way more broad-shouldered; he somehow managed to look immense in Éponine's tiny couch with an arm around his slimed boyfriend.

"So, how did you both met?" Bahorel asked, waving his hand vaguely and looking down at his solo cup filled with coke in mild disgust.

"I'm a big fan of yours," Joaquín said in a thick accent. "This gorgeous boy was at one of my fashion shows and I thought I'd ask for an autograph."

"The one I went with 'Chetta and Cosette," Jehan added, smiling widely. "I told you about it, Courf, remember? They convinced me to ask for his number instead." Jehan giggled, accepting Joaquín's passionate kiss.

"Oh, God..." Feuilly  _ moaned _ next to Courfeyrac as they watched Joaquín's arm muscles shifting under the skin when he brought Jehan closer to him. "Oh. God."

"Dude, you're gonna come if you follow that train of thought," Bahorel scolded in Feuilly's ear. "I'm right here, don't forget about me," he added pouting.

Courfeyrac, feeling his pants would have the same fate Bahorel had foreseen for Feuilly's if he didn't do something about it, stood up and went to grab a beer to cool down his head; he had mixed feelings regarding Jehan's new boyfriend.

It'd been a few months since Courfeyrac had started to openly identify as aromantic. Jehan knew, all his friends knew, it was wonderful. His relationship with Jehan had changed for the better; they were closer than before, Courf felt more comfortable with himself around his friend, and Jehan himself seemed more confident and free. They were passionate friends,  _ partners _ even, and it was everything Courfeyrac had ever wanted.

But maybe he was wrong and that wasn't enough for Jehan.

Evidently it wasn't. Jehan was happy with Joaquín, that much was obvious, and Courfeyrac loved to see that spark in his boy's eyes. Rationally, he knew Jehan wouldn't necessarily forget about him just because he'd gotten a boyfriend —a motherfucking sexy, strong and pretty much a walking wet dream of a boyfriend—, but the more selfish part of him was terrified of losing him. He hadn't expected him to actually date the guy when he mentioned him for the first time three months ago, he thought that Jehan was just fooling around. But yet again, Jehan had told him about all their dates, about every single fancy dinner and movie nights that had ended in breakfast the next morning; Jehan had told him about the first time Joaquín had made love to him and just the way he'd said those words... Courfeyrac should've seen it coming.

Now that he was face to face with the guy, Courfeyrac  _ understood _ .

"Hey," Jehan's voice reached his ear and he felt a puff of warm air on his neck where the young man had rested his head over Courfeyrac's shoulder. "You've been staring at that beer for five minutes straight. Is it bad?"

"Uh, no, what? I mean," he corrected, "it tastes funny, but I think my mouth's bitter," he lied.

"Really? Let me see," Jehan said, grabbing the bottle from Courfeyrac's hand and taking a long sip. He made weird noises with his mouth, like a wine taster, making Courf smile. "Hmm, nope. This one's fine. Let me see," he repeated, and planted a firm kiss on the other's lips, keeping him still with a hand on the back of his neck and taking advantage of his surprised gasp to briefly run his tongue over the roof of Courfeyrac's mouth. "Nope, that one's good to me, as well," he declared calmly, as if he hadn't just kissed Courfeyrac in Joaquín's field of view. "How many of this have you had, anyway? We promised we wouldn't get drunk, remember? It's for Grantaire."

Courfeyrac eyed Joaquín warily, but the model wasn't even looking in their direction, submerged in a conversation with Combeferre. "This is the first, but now I don't think I'll drink it."

"You can have this one," Jehan assured, taking another sip and handing the bottle over. "But share it with me?"

Courfeyrac felt his face splitting in a wide smile.

They did that. It was their thing. Even before alcohol had been dramatically reduced in their gatherings for Grantaire's sake, Jehan and him had taken to drink from the same glass or bottle, even when it was just water. It was a form of intimacy that suited both of them; Jehan only did it with him and Courf only did it with Jehan, and no one seemed to find it weird. It was  _ their _ thing.

"Sure, baby," he said, sliding an arm around Jehan's shoulders, walking back to the living room with him.

 

***

 

Courfeyrac walked inside  _ Carpe Diem _ 's studio to find some of his friends hunched over Bossuet's phone on a corner of the room. Enjolras and Combeferre were talking with Valjean about something Courf was sure it was important, but he was a curious man and he decided to approach the chuckling group before he had to act like a responsible adult.

"What's so funny?" he asked, peering over Marius' shoulder.

"Bossuet found Joaquín's Instagram," Grantaire answered, with a smirk. "We're stalking the guy. He's something else."

Courfeyrac looked down at Bossuet's phone and made a face. There was a picture of one of Joaquín's campaigns with GQ where his seemingly permanent duck face reached astronomical proportions. Admittedly, he looked good on that suit, but there was something about him that simply didn't cut it for Courfeyrac.

"The guy has, like, two poses," Bahorel protested with a frown.

"I've never understood how they do that," Joly commented, pursing his lips in disbelief as Bossuet scrolled down yet another photoshoot session on the model's archive. "What would you have to say to someone to make them look like that? 'Now make a face that says you're the kind of creep they based those Fifty Shades Of Pervert books on", he mocked, causing a loud laugh from his friends.

"I think he's okay", Feuilly confessed and Bahorel's frown deepened.

Later on, safe in the confines of his room, Courfeyrac pulled out his phone and checked Joaquín's Instagram, that small window to the life of the man Jehan had chosen to share his with, at least for the time being. He took his time to look through every picture, skipping those that were promotions or campaigns, and stopping in the few he had of his personal life. There was one in particular that caught his eye: Joaquín sitting on a bike, holding a rainbow umbrella, and getting ready for a long trip to the beach. Courfeyrac recognized that picture; Jehan had sent it to Courf right after taking it a few weeks ago.

He remembered the day after that picture had been taken, when his friend had come back from that particular date with his freckled shoulders tinted red by the scorching sun, smiling like he'd had the best day of his life. Jehan had told him everything about Joaquín's charming gestures while the drummer applied moisturizing lotion on his sunburned skin... Courfeyrac closed the app and threw his phone somewhere near his feet on the bed. There was something he didn't like about Joaquín, and even though it was easy to assume it was jealousy, he refused to acknowledge it as such. It didn't matter. Jehan was living a fairytale and Courf had to focus on the good things.

Of course, it was easier said than done, since Joaquín did everything in his power to show some kind of dominance every time he was in the same room as them. The guy was annoyingly clingy with Jehan and, since they were  _ an item _ now —not publicly, yet, as far as Courf knew— he was all the time with him, unless he had a photoshoot or something, in which case he resorted to text Jehan every two seconds. Courfeyrac knew. He'd heard Jehan's phone beeping all day.

But none of his friends seemed bothered by the model's self-imposed presence, except for Bahorel, so Courfeyrac had to swallow his comments and watch in silence as Joaquín demanded kisses from Jehan in a way that didn't sit down well with the drummer.

"Stop it", Joaquín was saying. "Kiss me." Not asking,  _ demanding _ .

Jehan compiled and, when he withdrew from his boyfriend, he looked back at Courfeyrac, rolling his eyes and smiling like he couldn't believe Joaquín's shenanigans. Courfeyrac smiled back as amiably as he could master and pretended to be more interested in the conversation happening around him. Truth be told, he was a little anxious because he hadn't had a good chance to talk to Jehan in days.

_ Sassafras Roots _ was taking a break after their last tour, which meant Jehan was fully invested in his relationship with the model. He'd even canceled one of his date nights with Grantaire to go to one of Joaquín's fashion shows in New York, and had been absent the entire weekend. So, yeah, maybe Courfeyrac was jealous because this was the first time he saw Jehan in three days and he was dying to snuggle up the man to compensate for the time they spent apart.

Jehan, obviously, was getting loads of cuddles, but they were from Joaquín and that was simply unfair. That didn't mean Courfeyrac would  _ ask _ for a little bit of time together; he was just Jehan's friend.

"He's gonna eat him alive, isn't he?" Grantaire snorted, nodding at the couple standing a few feet away. "Isn't it super cool that Jehan finally found a boyfriend? The kid was starting to act like a monk," he said, fondly.

Courfeyrac nodded, though the frown on his forehead betrayed his true thoughts.

But, ultimately, what did he know about that, right?

 

***

 

Courfeyrac entered the apartment without announcing his presence: that was his first mistake.

Jehan was with Joaquín (again) that night, it was safe to assume Courfeyrac had the place for himself. He dumped his bag on the couch and went to the kitchen to drink some water. The place was relatively clean, but still it took Courf a moment to notice the jacket sitting unsuspected on the back of the couch. He finished his water, lowered the glass into the sink, and walked back to the living room, running his fingers over the soft fabric of the jacket once he was close to it.

He lifted up, inspected it from every angle —it was pretty nice and  _ expensive _ —, and brought it to his nose to smell it when a loud moan made him jump out of his skin. He stood still for a second, sharpening his ear, until the sound reched him again, softer this time. "What the hell?" he murmured to himself, walking to the hallway.

"Oh, god..." he heard and panic spread rapidly through his body when he recognized that voice.

The moans came from Jehan's room, accompanied by the drag of the bed legs over the wooden floor.

"Oh, no..." he whispered, knowing perfectly well what was going on inside there.

The logical course of action was to turn around, take his bag, and get the hell out of the apartment before any of them could notice he was there, listening to them having sex —loud sex, by the way. Why he wasn't doing it was a mystery to Courfeyrac, who instead of doing the smarter thing his brain was begging him to, walked all the way to Jehan's room; that was his second mistake.

He prayed that Jehan had had enough presence of mind to remember he needed to close the door, making it easy for Courfeyrac to avoid looking at them and let them continue with their...  _ joining _ in peace. No such luck, it seemed. As soon as he turned the corner, his eyes were graced with the sudden vision of Jehan's naked back and long, copper hair in a messy braid. Courfeyrac retrieved his steps and pressed his forehead against the wall.

It was a tremendous invasion of Jehan's privacy, but Courfeyrac was curious: he knew that freckled body by heart, he'd heard those broken moans right next to his ear as he thrusted steadily inside Jehan's tight... Well, he was going off on the tangent. The point was he wanted to know if Jehan's needs were being properly met and, besides, he had to get to his own room, anyway; if that meant walking in front of Jehan's open door, he couldn't be blamed of anything.

He took deep breaths to calm himself —attempting to convince himself that he wasn't being a creep, although the evidence suggested otherwise—, and turned the corner once more, keeping an eye on his steps to avoid drawing attention. He bit his lips suppressing a lewd gasp when Jehan's body was displayed again before of his eyes; unable to stop himself, he approached the open door and peered discreetly inside the room.

Joaquín was on his back with Jehan straddling his lap, riding him with such an enthusiasm that had Courfeyrac honestly mesmerized. Jehan looked tiny, compared to the broad form of hid boyfriend, and his legs spread wide to accommodate Joaquín's thick thighs. Courfeyrac could see the exact spot where Joaquín's impressive cock disappeared between Jehan's cheeks. Courfeyrac's heart was beating fast, both from adrenaline and excitement. He felt his pants getting tighter with every passing second as his hand rubbed dangerously close to his crotch.

He was seriously considering just touching himself where he stood, since not even the guilt he felt could subdue his hardness, but he heard Joaquín grunting with resolution as his big hands wrapped around Jehan's waist. Courfeyrac barely had enough time to run into his own room the moment he caught Joaquín flipping himself and Jehan on the bed, shifting until he had the younger man on his back with him well seated between the freckled legs.

Courfeyrac closed the door to his own room and leaned against the wood, breathing heavily. He almost got caught spying on his best friend having sex. It'd been too close.

"Ah, Joa-" Jehan's faltering moan broke through the wall between their rooms and Courf's hard dick twitched, very much interested still.

"My name's easier to moan," he said without real malice, walking the few steps between the door and the bed, and flopping down own the mattress to lie on his back.

He couldn't help the senseless comparison, but at that point, with all his blood moving south to his crotch, he didn't even feel jealous anymore: he wanted to be  _ part _ of what was going on in the next room.He never thought he had a size kink, but looking at Jehan being fucked and manhandled by a man like Joaquín... well, it had turned him on. He still could hear their laborious pants and loud moans, and the thud of the headboard against the wall was too distracting to overpower his aching boner. Thinking that Jehan wouldn't mind if he rubbed one off to their erotic symphony —especially since he was never going to find out—, he pressed his open palm against the tent in his jeans and bit his fist to muffle his pleasured moan.

Courfeyrac unfastened his jeans, pulling them down to his mid-thighs along with his underwear, and took himself in hand. He stroked his cock lazily at first, savoring the moment as he heard Joaquín moaning a series of words in Spanish that Courfeyrac didn't even bother to try to understand. "¡Mierda! Apriétalo- ¡apriétame fuerte!" ~~[Shit! Squeeze it- squeeze me hard!]~~

Judging by the heavy breaths coming from the other room, they were close. Courfeyrac sped up the strokes on his cock to match them with the pounding of the headboard; he was going to finish with them, he  _ wanted _ to finish with them... God, he was a creep, wasn't he? But he'd focus on those thoughts at any other time: right now, he wanted to come. He rubbed the head of his dick on a stroke up with the pad of his thumb and the bed of precum he found there made him moan louder than he'd intended to. The sound on the other side of the wall didn't falter, so he went on, fucking faster into the tight channel of his fist.

Courfeyrac managed to pinpoint the exact moment when Joaquín came, cursing to the air in Spanish, and finally giving the bed a rest. Courfeyrac continued his strokes, trying to imagine what exactly Joaquín was doing to get Jehan off; Jehan's low whimper was the only thing Courfeyrac could hear when he came all over his hand.

"I'm an awful friend..." he said to himself, sighing heavily.


End file.
